Secret Born
by JeichanHaka
Summary: Summary: Why horses? Everyone knows that ogres are blind. So why send send horses to soldiers who wouldn't know the first thing about keeping the horses quiet enough to reach or evade the enemy? *This is my attempt at making sense of something that has been bugging me for a while about the battle Rumplestiltskin fled.


**Secret Born**

**Chapter 01**: A Tale As Old As Love

_Summary: Why horses? Everyone knows that ogres are blind. So why send send horses to soldiers who wouldn't know the first thing about keeping the horses quiet enough to reach or evade the enemy? *_This is my attempt at making sense of something that has been bugging me for a while about the battle Rumplestiltskin fled.

* * *

Centuries Ago:

It was starless, the sky and a violet mixed with coal. The crimson skies that marked the battlefield were well away, nearer the distant horizon than the courtyard surrounding the Duke's abode. Too far to burden a pair of young lovers flirting about in the gardens within its high walls. The lady, a copper-haired and olive-eyed damsel dressed in a flowing silver dress, laughed behind her hand at something said by her partner, a baby-faced knight with sheepish eyes and tapioca skin. Their words were inaudible, but their mere expressions when gazing on the other's face spoke volumes more than all the books in the Duke's library.

"Despicable." The Duke growled from his hidden alcove overlooking the laughing youths, his sharp eyes as black as the night's starless sky. His face stern as stone and his brow creased with quiet fury. Ugly thoughts crossed his mind gazing on the two below, ugly thoughts borne of envy. Lust. "That he should have her…."

"That is as it should be, is it not, sire? The lad loves the lady and she him." The Duke's servant spoke, standing beside the Duke. "Best to let youth go with youth. After all, is not the boy your own son? What good is…." The servant fell silent, quelled by the scathing glare the Duke flashed him.

"My son he may be, but not my heir. His mother's whoredom sees to that." The Duke spat, glaring once more at the young couple. His face contorted seeing the two's hands entwined, their lips and tongues following suit. "He could be any man's bastard."

"But, sire, surely you determined that not to be? The Seer…."

"Of course I sought proof of his parentage. I would labor beneath the earth for a hundred years before I would raise another man's spawn as my own. He is mine." The Duke growled, clenching his fists on the railing overlooking the courtyard. The lady and the lad had moved towards the far side, to one of the darker corners, and now were sharing furtive kisses. "But even so, I need an heir. No bastard, no matter how brave or beloved or true in word and deed, can inherit my title."

"So find a duchess. There're certain to be plenty of ladies in court who would vie for your hand. If not for love then for hope of bearing the next duke and enjoying that honor."

"True. But none would compare to her, in beauty or in pedigree. The king's third daughter, and chosen heir since her brother's death and sisters' marriages." The Duke stepped away from the ledge, and beneath the shelter of the canopy above his alcove. Just in time to avoid his son's curious gaze. "Elena will be mine, Hordor. Not that whore-son's. Mine or no man's." The Duke turned and stalked off, his expression cold and brow heavily furrowed. He paused for a moment, before turning back to Hordor. "Bring me the Seer. I have need of her."

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* * *

Some Weeks Later:

"No. No!" The olive-eyed princess cried into her handkerchief, her peach cheeks glistening beneath the chandelier. Each flickering tongue of flame on each candle seemed subdued, as too did the night sky, which was once again starless. The moon a pale gray and the vivid purple sky hidden by fog. "Edmund! No!"

"My lady, please…." The princess' handmaid knelt beside her, stroking her hair and giving her trembling hand a comforting squeeze.

"Gone. He's…." Elena sputtered, trembling as she reread the letter that had arrived by messenger earlier that evening. Her cheeks were puffy and glistening wet, enough that a few stray strands of her copper hair clung to her face. Clung to her cheeks just as she clung to that letter. "Those damnable ogres."

"My lady…."

"Leave me. Leave me!" The princess snapped at the handmaid, pushing the older and meeker woman away. She glared at the woman, ready to push her away again or yell. Opening her mouth to do just that, a knock interrupted and drew both their attentions.

"Elena, my sweet daughter, are you coming to supper?" Her mother's voice drifted through the door, the tone much gentler than usual. "If you're not up to it, I'll tell your father you've taken ill and not to disturb you."

"I…." Elena started to answer, but instead bit heavily down on her lips, fighting back a sob. Her mother's words and gentle tone tearing into her skin like iron pokers. Her mother knew. Knew and understood. Yet it did little to comfort her, and much more harm. Because it summoned forth a now dreadful memory.

_-"I need to go. Fighting on the front lines will prove to all, I'm a hero. And will prove to your father I'm worthy enough for you, despite my bastard status." Edmund held her hands reassuringly as he spoke, shaking his head at her fears. "If I don't he'll never give his blessing."-_

"Edmund. Why…?" Elena sobbed, pulling her knees against her chest and sinking her face into them.

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* * *

"I take it, it's all gone as planned, Hordor?" The Duke inquired, standing solemn beside the table on which lay his bastard son's body. Or what little the ogres had left of it. The beasts had done their work, just as the Seer had told him. And here, his son, and sole rival, lay dead while he would remain blameless in Elena's eyes.

"Yes. Pretty much." Hordor replied, though something about his tone bothered the Duke. Like a note of untruth was clinging to it. The Duke scowled.

"What is it?"

"I...well, sire." Hordor fumbled over his response. "You know how the Seer assured you no one would survive the battle?" He paused while the Duke stiffly nodded. "Seems one of the soldiers fled just before the battle. Hobbled himself and fled."

"What?!" The Duke glared scathingly at the other man, his brow creased heavily with rage. And apprehension. His plan hinged on there being no survivors of the battle, no one to mention about his gift of horses the morning of the battle. A gift that seasoned warriors against the ogres or others who knew of the beasts' blindness would question the wisdom of using. What sort of foolish strategy is it to give newly trained men a noisy animal to use against creatures that hunt by sound and smell? Not to mention that the horses themselves were hardly battle-hardened.

"Not to worry, I assure you. One of my men is watching the coward's house. He hasn't made it home yet." Hordor watched as the Duke's glare lessened, his angry brow grow less intense. "I can easily have one of my men find him and make sure he doesn't reach home."

The Duke nearly agreed, but then shook his head. Something the Seer had mentioned gnawed at his thoughts. "No. Let him. You said he fled? Then he'll be marked a coward. A deserter that those who lost loved ones in the battle can hate and blame. It's human nature. So long as they have a target for their hate and grief, none shall search any further for answers. Although…." There was brief silence as the Duke thought a moment, chewing his inside cheeks. "It wouldn't hurt to have a guarantee of sorts."

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* * *

The raven-haired woman paled listening to what the stranger said, his demand worse than the story on the villagers' lips. About the battle and her husband fleeing. "Never. Get out."

"Now, madam, you do know the decree of the frontlines." The stranger drawled, his eyes flicking towards the cot a few feet away. "You also should be aware that the Duke's own son lost his life in the battle your husband has fled."

"I don't care. Get out." Milah spat, and reached for the nearest weapon-like object. A log of firewood that she gripped tightly. Before she could do more than hold it threateningly, the stranger blew a glittery powder into her face. Immediately she fell back unconscious, only by chance falling back into the chair she'd vacated to answer the stranger's knock.

"Apologies, madame, but what the Duke commands, I…." The stranger trailed off, and headed towards the cot. His brow rose in curiosity as he glanced inside it, and he clicked his tongue. Swaddled in the cot slept two babies, peacefully oblivious to his presence or their mother's unconsciousness.

* * *

**Author's Note: Please tell me what you think and if I should continue this. **


End file.
